


Latenight Cooking

by Xomee



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cooking, Does anyone care about a single swear word, F/M, Fluff, Swearing, Venting to the sweet redhead, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xomee/pseuds/Xomee
Summary: It was easy to feel unimportant when sharing a room with literal angels and demons. But did they really have to say it to my face.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Kudos: 20





	Latenight Cooking

**Author's Note:**

> This game really glosses over how poorly the MC is treated sometimes and I'd like to correct some of that. So this is mostly self indulgent to fill in the emotional gap between "stupid human" to friend the game just jumps over.

It was late, too late for a cooking session. I should have been in bed, but lying still and sleeping weren’t working. Nearly a third of the way through the year and I was still being referred to as ‘the human’ by my own dorm mates! House mates, whatever. The men I had thought were at least warming up to me were still looking to demean me in the pettiest of ways. After everything we had done so far!

The pot slammed down on the black stove top. It’s loud bang echoed shrilly in the night's silence. I shouldn't have done that. There’s no need to take out my frustrations on innocent dishware.

I flick the burner on to begin boiling the water as I get to chopping the peeled potatoes. The starchy spuds seem to be a staple in all three realms.

Normally my temper isn’t so hot. I can meet insults with my own and it never phases me. And ultimately these weren’t even all that bad. So this shouldn’t have bothered me.

Potatoes fell into the steaming pot as I moved to dice what passed for carrots and onions in this realm. At least the closest I could find.

Cooking was supposed to calm me down. It had always been a wonderful stress reliever before.

Veggies now minced I moved to put the saucepan on the stove. The mince would cook quickly so I needed to watch it. Mixing bowl, hand mixer and strainer were all gathered for their part. Waiting for the potatoes to boil. Turning to the sink I began cleaning the chopping board, knife and little bowls that had held my chopped vegetables.

I guess I can’t really de-stress if I’m still turning that dark haired asshole’s words around in my head. Was it really so hard to not speak down to me?

My dish cleaning might have been getting a bit aggressive.

But really, to think he said things like, “you’re special on a personal level,” and that he “enjoyed my company.” And then turns around and suggests that I can’t understand things as simple as sibling jealousy and suppressed emotions. He might be the oldest and right hand of the future king both of which keep him ridiculously busy, but that doesn’t excuse his weird two faced comments.

“What are you cooking?”

My startled squeal was very dignified. Normally I’m not so lost in my own head that I miss the footsteps on the dark tiled floor. But I was, and did. Leaving the redhead now in front of me almost as surprised as I was.

Though I really shouldn't have been. After all it was just like Beelzebub, avatar of gluttony, the bottomless pit and sweetest devil in that house to be up at… 3:32am to get a bite to eat.

“Beel! Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” One hand to my chest, leaving a nice wet spot on my sleep top, I turn back to my dishes. Just need to put them on the dryer.

“I smelled food. I didn't know you cooked like this.”

“Yeah well, since that retreat I haven’t been able to cook again. And no one seems to remember that my food wasn’t poisonous.” Maybe I was still pouting over Solomon’s disaster taking away any chance I had at showing off what I could do. Not like as a normal human I get many opportunities for that in the devildom.

“Well this is pretty good.”

I whipped back around to find Beel with his hand in my mince, mince that was much too brown.

“No! Beel I need those!”

There was no point in asking how he could stand ripping hop veggie mince in his mouth, or why he found the unseasoned vegetables ‘good.’ Gluttony was gluttony, and that was all there likely was to it.

Forgetting the dishes, I moved back over to the stove. Gently nudging the giant aside. Moving the pan around I hopped to spot some crispness to my veggies still. But the carmel brown on the onions and the mushy glaze of carrots betrayed the lost cause. There was no saving them.

“It’s ruined.” I toss the pan backed on the stove and turn the potatoes off. It doesn’t matter if they're cooked through or not. I don’t have another almost onion, and lack my earlier motivation.

“It’s not ruined. They're still good.” A large hand reaches around me for a full glob of the mince.

“You don’t put soggy veg in the middle of fluffy potatoes. And I don’t have another onion substitute to make more.”

“What about potato cakes?” He asked.

Beel emptied the saucepan and moved to dig through the fridge. I eyed the starch water and potatoes. “I guess.” Poking the largest chunk proved they still needed a few minutes, so I flipped the switch for the burner back on. No point in wasting food I guess.

“So do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, my dejected mood must have been obvious.

Returning from the fridge his arms were loaded with plastic containers and take out boxes. He noticed me eyeing his haul. “I left some.” Contrary to what his brothers said Beel did know restraint. Pulling up a bar stool at the island he started chowing down on his food. A prime listening position while I finished cooking.

“I just thought I had made friends with everyone here. Or at least you all liked me enough to have some respect for me.”

The now empty pan goes to the sink to be cleaned.

“We do.”

“And yet Lucifer still calls me ‘the human.’ Regularly implies that I’m not capable of understanding things, and sometimes treats me like a useless novelty he only entertains for his lord’s sake.” Back to the stove. The pot was strained, the potatoes fluffed, and dropped into the mixing bowl. I made sure to switch the mixer on before Beel could answer. Sweet as he was, he was also straightforwardly honest, and I don't want to hear that Lucifer was right. That next to him or his brothers I am not capable. That compared to Soloman I was useless. And that maybe I really didn’t understand anything.

In my rush to drown Beel out I had forgotten the egg, flour, and all the spices. All I had was a sad bowl of beaten potato mush I wanted to hurl at the wall. Cooking was something I was moderately good at, and I couldn’t even get that right. It was by no means ruined, I just couldn’t find it in me to focus.

“You’re not useless.”

Leaving my potatoes I turned to face Beel’s unwanted pity. This pity party was reserved for one, thank you.

“You’re not.” He continued, “Mammon actually listens to you. Levi leaves his room to hangout with you and hasn’t called you a ‘normie’ in weeks. And I bet when you finish, those are going to be tasty.” His face had grown red at the end but I was too busy unraveling his words to understand why.

“Lucifer isn’t very good with change, and you’re a pretty big one.” He said collecting dishes to add to mine already in the sink. “But I think you’re a good one, and much more useful than Soloman.”

The words were too perfect, I felt the stinging burn of tears in my eyes. Placing my weight on the counter I used it to boost me so I could kiss his cheek. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”


End file.
